


Move Together

by there_north



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: Anger, Angst, Established Relationship, F/M, Sexual Content, Stress and Coping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 02:11:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17295725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/there_north/pseuds/there_north
Summary: The only time they don’t argue is during investigations and interviews. Only for the sake of professionalism. His anger is fuelling him at the moment, and he doesn’t know how to let go.





	Move Together

**Author's Note:**

> Story based from 'Move Together' by James Bay. (Source of title too).
> 
> Probably set between series 2 and 3, so a little bit AU. Also, hasn't been Beta'd - sorry for any mistakes!

The house is dark when he enters through the side door. He locks it quietly behind him, hangs his mac and kicks down to his socks as he heads into the kitchen, feet sliding across the floorboards. The dishwasher is silently flashing, signalling it’s long since finished. The time on the microwave reads three seventeen AM. Hardy scrubs at his face, fingers pushing at his eyes as he stumbles towards the staircase, gracelessly finding his way through Fred’s toys, Tom’s shoes and Daisy’s football kit, scattered across the floor. Hardy hooks Daisy’s soiled socks up, tosses them back in the direction of the washing machine. He was meant to collect her from training tonight.

He looks in on Fred first. The toddler has his kicked away his blankets, one leg stuck in the air and hooked in the bars of the cot, his toy cat resting next to him. Hardy carefully unhooks the leg, pulls the blankets up, rests his hand on Fred’s curls. There’s a pile of books on the floor, books Hardy has been meaning to read. Ellie won’t have had time either.

Leaving a kiss on Fred’s head, Hardy moves out of the room, passing to the next bedroom where the door is completely open. He rests against the door frame. Tom’s steadily lengthening legs are tucked under the covers, his face pressed into the pillow, mouth closed, long lashes on cheeks, hair cowlicked at the back. He’s still so young really. Daisy is all askew. Legs contorted at odd angles off the mattress, mouth slightly open, body twisted, covers gone like Fred. Hardy kisses Tom’s head first, moves hair back off his face. Then fixes Daisy’s blankets, crouches down to kiss her. He lingers a moment too long, holding onto the steady constant of his daughter.

“Dad?” Daisy mutters, sniffs in a way that is so reminiscent of him.

“Aye,” he whispers. “Night. Love you.”

“’Uv’vu too,” Daisy buries her face back into the pillow.

Hardy shuts the door completely on his way out. They’ve been meaning to move Daisy downstairs, off Tom’s bedroom floor and into the study. Another thing that hasn’t happened. Something else on hold. Their bedroom door is open. He stops in the doorway, his eyes adjusting to the dull light. There’s clothes left across most surfaces, his suit jackets are crumpled on the floor, Ellie’s shirts precariously hooked over corners, books stacked amongst papers. Hardy knows he should pick them up. He tries to be quiet as he creeps into the room, picks up the shirts and jackets, laying them across the chair. Hardy steps on a Mega Block, curses through clenched teeth. He tries to find it on the floor but it’s disappeared. When he does find it, he also grabs a scrap of paper and his missing police ID.

_For fucks sake._

Hardy tenses his jaw further. The hassle he went through today to get a new one, just so he could fucking get into the bloody CID. Ellie insisted it wasn’t in the bedroom. _But low and fucking behold._ Hardy pelts the Mega Block across the room. He watches its trajectory as it cracks into the closet door then drops onto a book.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing?” Ellie is sitting up in the bed, sneering at him.

Hardy scowls in return, tries to bottle down his immediate want to apologise for waking her up. He doesn’t answer, instead tears off his suit jacket, starts undoing his shirt buttons but gives up on the fourth one and tugs the sweaty, crinkled item roughly over his head, before yanking off his trousers. The progress he made in tidying is destroyed as he assaults the corner with his clothes.

“How ‘bout you throw a few books down the stairs too. Wake the children whilst you’re at it,” Ellie reviles.

“Go back tae sleep, Miller,” he snaps back, his throat torn and rough, aching from the head cold he knows is coming.

He’s been worn out lately, overloaded with stress. Working too hard again. Ellie has too. Initially they didn’t bring it home. Now it’s ripping them inside out. Daisy not picked up from training, Fred unread to, Tom without forms filled in – normally small things, soon fixed, but they seem so much more extreme right now. It’s the tiniest things sending them through the ringer. Hardy feels like he’s been tossed into the tumble dryer with Ellie, limbs and heads colliding as they spin and spin and rattle endlessly, all the while heating up. Except he fears the tumble dryer didn’t have its filter cleaned prior, and it’ll only take one second for the fire to start, leading towards an explosion.

The only time they don’t argue is during investigations and interviews. Only for the sake of professionalism. Hardy finds himself intentionally stopping his want to be nice to Ellie, to apologise, because his anger is fuelling him at the moment, and he doesn’t know how to let go.

Ellie lies down on her back, covers around her waist, hands pressed to her forehead. He climbs onto the cold sheets, untouched for the hours Ellie’s been in bed alone, sits next to her with one leg tucked under himself, one dangling to the floor.

“Did you finish closing the case?” Ellie is looking at the ceiling.  

“No.”

Ellie turns back to him with a glare. He watches her tense and unclench her jaw a few times. He knows why she’s angry. He was supposed to have finished it by five PM, let alone by three the next morning. This case has been dragging on for too long now, but finally concluded with an arrest by Ellie early today. Well, yesterday now.  

“How hard is it to complete the blasted forms?” Ellie sits up to meet his height.

“Ah didn’t see you doin’ them,” he growls, his tone raising well beyond a hushed tone.

“I was working on our next arse-ing case!” Ellie snarls. “ _You_ were meant to finish these like we agreed. Then pick your daughter up, and I recall you saying _you’d_ be cooking dinner tonight. But no, instead _I_ was left with a bunch of fucking vegetables that I had no clue what your intention was with them, whilst Fred banged on about his books and Tom lectured me about excursion notes. So, please, tell me, when would I have time to do the fucking case notes?!”

“You were the arresting officer!” Hardy can’t stop himself biting back. “I coudnae finish them all in three hours, especially not amongst interruptions to do with the delivery of the new fucking arse _fridge_!” He can’t get over how many officers kept asking him the same questions about one bloody delivery. “I told Daisy I couldn’t pick her up, she understood, said she’d be fine, by the way,” Hardy continues.

Forget chucking books down the stairs, they’ll wake the children up arguing.

“I’m sorry ‘bout dinner, but Fred _will_ be read his books soon, and as for Tom’s notes, they cannae be signed by me because you won’t let the school know I’m his guardian now, so I can’t help there either. _Sorry,_ ” he sneers the final word.

Ellie glares at him defiantly. They both listen out for the children, but there’s no disturbance. The house is silent, the only noise coming from the rattly water heater downstairs and the wind outside. Ellie huffs out a long sigh, flopping back onto the mattress, closing her eyes. 

“What’s happening, Alec?” Ellie doesn’t whisper. She turns her head to look at him, her tired eyes meeting his equally shattered ones.

He stares at her exhausted form, answers clearly, “I don’t know.”

“These things aren’t even important. We’re arguing over case notes, and picture books, and fucking vegetables,” Ellie groans, hands closing over her face.

Hardy turns around and lies next to her, mimicking her position, shoulder to shoulder. His legs extend past hers and she rests her socked foot on his bare shin. Hardy looks to the side at the time. Three forty-three. Ellie has to be up in two hours. They won’t see each other tomorrow, or the next three days. She’s going to London for a conference.

“Hey,” Ellie has turned her head in his direction. He looks at her. “I will tell the school.”

“I know.” Because he knows she will.

Hardy presses his forehead to hers. Ellie sniffs a little, her breath sharp against his face. Ellie smells faintly of toothpaste, sweat and fading shampoo. He knows he smells worse, but Ellie doesn’t seem to care. Their relationship comes from damage and destruction, each other at their worst.

Ellie strikes her mouth against his. He immediately reciprocates. Presses turn into tongues and nipping, they both roll onto their sides for better access, hands finding purchase on clothes. Hardy nudges his nose into her neck, kissing her as he feels her breathing against his forehead, her hands threading through his hair.

Hardy pauses to throw away his t-shirt and boxers. Ellie quickly discards her shorts and pants, her leg slipping between his. She grinds down on his thigh as he uses his leg to hook her closer. The duvet falls away, leaving them slipping amongst sheets that already need to be changed. Ellie’s hands move lower, sliding along the muscles in his tense back. She cups his arse and he bucks towards her.

There’s nothing said, only quiet grunts, moans and intense breathing. Ellie’s head drops to his throat as his hand cups her and Hardy draws his chin across her forehead. She groans when he pushes into her, and he pulls her closer, gradually adjusting the angle. They continue side by side, his chin rutting against the top of her head with every thrust as she tells him to go harder. Ellie manoeuvres him so he’s back with her, watching one another. Hardy uses his hand to help her over, following shortly after. Ellie wetly kisses his shoulder, then leaves her mouth resting there, teeth just touching his skin.

The whole bed is uncomfortably hot, his skin humid, Ellie’s sticking to his. He closes his eyes, pressing his chin against her head, his hand resting against her thigh, pulling her closer.

“You stink,” Ellie states into his shoulder and he feels her scrunch her nose up.

Hardy laughs, his taut stomach rippling against hers. Ellie grins too, sniffing him, then backing away to frown. He kisses her again, slower this time, catches her bottom lip and sucks for a moment. Ellie knocks her nose against his, flinching when she misses her mark and kisses his rough chin instead.

“We need to fix this,” he says quietly. “You and me.”

Ellie nods. “I’m sorry for being short tempered.”

“Sorry for being a chaotic arse,” Hardy replies, picking a stray strand of hair out of her eye.

Ellie watches him silently for a second, then lets go of his rib cage, stepping out of bed to clean up. Hardy fixes himself, finds boxers and a less-stinky t-shirt, before opening the bedroom door again in case Daisy, Tom or Fred need them. Thinking of the children, he cracks open the window to vent the room. Back in the bed, Ellie tugs the covers up to her chin, glancing at the time as Hardy tumbles in next to her. She groans at the little extra sleep she will get before having to wake, but doesn’t complain further.

“Tom and Daisy have the Beach Clean tomorrow, so, reusable gloves,” Ellie says before yawning. “An’ Lucy’s coming for dinner tomorrow. Sorry.”

Hardy nods, watching Ellie’s breathing start to even out as he struggles to stay awake. He’s about to drop off when he feels her hand clumsily tap him on the face, poking his eye whilst she’s at it.

“What?” Hardy grumbles, despite pushing his head further into her hold.

“Love you,” Ellie slurs.

“Too,” he’s just replies before he’s gone.

It’s just been a horrible couple of weeks, and whilst they literally do not have tomorrow, figuratively, they have so much more time. Daisy will move out of Tom’s room and be picked up from football, the water heater will stop rattling downstairs, Tom will have his forms signed by Alec, and Fred will be read so, so many books. Ellie and Hardy will argue over the tiniest things, but that’s all they are. That’s all they will ever be. Seemingly insignificant things that end up being both unimportant and yet very important at the same time.             

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Broadchurch and its characters belong to Chris Chibnall and ITV.


End file.
